


Playing with Broken Toys

by 221brosiewilde



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fake Character Death, Light BDSM, Open Relationships, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2344982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221brosiewilde/pseuds/221brosiewilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary and Jim meet up for old times sake a year after his "death." Mary learns that not all people come back whole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing with Broken Toys

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a prompt given to me by an anon for my Summer Kink Fest. The prompt asked for Dom!Mary pegging gagged!insubordinate!sub!Jim. I started writing that, but it quickly devolved into barely concealed angst. Also Mary is a BAMF.

Jim always manages to get to the hotel room before her. 

Mary doesn’t know how he does it, how he’s still in London when he’s supposed to be dead. For years, she’d made a living out of getting into places she wasn’t supposed to, and even she has to admit that staying in the same city you faked your death in is fucking gutsy .

But then if it isn’t gutsy, Jim probably isn’t interested. 

She drops her bag and automatically cases the room; the exits and entrances, how many rooms there are. It’s not the same room as last time. It’s not even the same hotel, but that’s good. She can’t afford to go to the same place over and over. In the past maybe, but not now. 

Not since John. 

The lights flick on, and now she can see more than a vague outline on the bed.

“You’re late,” Jim says, with the kind of super villain drama Mary would laugh at if anyone else did it. “You didn’t have trouble finding the place, did you? Or was it just hard getting away from the  beau ?”

Mary purses her lips. She starts taking her jacket off, and doesn’t even have to watch to know that Jim is doing the same. 

There’s a rhythm to this now. There are rules. And they both know them by heart. 

“Neither,” she says after a moment. “Work held me up.”

“Oh, how is at the hospital? Is saving lives just as exciting as ending them?” Jim asks. He lays down, kicking the last of his clothes off, and Mary lets her eyes sweep over him. He’s thinner than the last time they met up, though he’s certainly more lucid. His eyes are clear, anyway. London must be good for him, then. Not that she really cares what is and isn’t good for him, even if he is the reason she’s Mary Morstan now, and not who she was. 

She finishes getting undressed and reaches into her bag. She pulls out the strap on and steps into it. She tightens the straps around her hips and adjusts it until it’s comfortable. 

“Yes, actually.” She looks up. “And how’s being dead?”

“Relaxing,” Jim says. He trails his eyes over her with barely hidden hunger. He watches her slide the dildo into place and licks his lips, then flicks his gaze back to her face. “Boring.”

“I imagine,” she says and takes a step towards him. “Now can we stop with the niceties? I came here to fuck you, not talk about life. Hands and knees. Now.”

Jim grins, but doesn’t move--stubborn little git that he is-- and Mary remembers why she’d agreed to this in the first place all those years ago. 

She has a soft spot for stubborn little gits. 

She reaches forward quickly and fists his hair, yanks his head back to expose the pale line of his throat. Jim makes a choked noise and Mary would be worried she’s hurting him if she couldn’t see the way his eyes glaze over. 

He needs this just as much as she does, especially since his sniper still thinks he’s dead. 

She leans in close to him, lips just brushing the edge of his jaw. 

“I’m not going to repeat myself,” she says and watches the muscles of Jim’s throat move as he swallows. “So when I let go, you’d better be in position for me to fuck you. Understood?”

Jim smirks. “And if I’m not?”

“I’ll leave.”

“You wouldn’t.” He shifts slightly, trying to get into a more comfortable position, but Mary compensates. She pulls him so that he has to arch his back in order to stay balanced and he lets out a quiet noise of frustration. 

Mary smiles. John would never let her do this to him. It’s one of the reasons they decided to keep their relationship open in the first place. At least for now, while they were still dating and nothing was too serious. 

She runs her finger down Jim’s spine and bites back a shiver at the deep curve. “Remember what happened the last time you said that?” 

Jim mumbles something and she digs her nails into his scalp. “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch that. Say again?”

“I don’t remember because you knocked me unconscious,” he says, louder this time, glaring with the kind of heat that made her agree to this stupid game in the first place. “Now let go of my hair and fuck me.”

“Are you going to do what I say?” she asks. Jim pauses. She knows it’s hard for him to give up control, but she also knows that he needs to sometimes. The only problem is getting him there. Although... 

She looks down and smirks. His cock is already rigid against his stomach. Obviously being on the run has broken him a bit. 

“Yes,” he says finally and Mary lets go. She watches as he moves onto his hands and knees, and can’t help the heat that starts to coil low in her belly at the sight of him doing exactly what she wants. 

“Lube?” she asks, her tone pleasant now that he’s being so good for her. 

He flaps his hand towards the nightstand. “In the drawer,” he says. “Along with the gloves.”

“Don’t you just think of everything,” she murmurs as she opens the drawer and takes out the supplies. He lets out a snort of amusement. 

“I’m always thinking of everything,” he says, head turned on the pillow so he can watch her. Seems like being on the run has made him even more paranoid than he was before. Interesting.

She tucks that piece of information aside and takes out the gloves. She snaps one on and grabs the lube, then climbs onto the bed behind him. 

“Even now that you don’t have to?” she asks, surprised to find that she actually wants to hear his answer. She lays her ungloved hand on the small of his back and immediately, his muscles tense. 

“It doesn’t just turn off,” Jim says through a clenched jaw. “Why else would I resort to doing this with  you of all people?”

“What? You don’t let your other clients fuck you? How touching.” Mary uncaps the lube bottle loudly just to see him shudder. He never used to be like this, all tense and bottled up. He used to be in control, brimming with insubordinance and quick humor. Then, it had been enjoyable turning him into a writhing mess. Now, his nerves seem frayed, like a mouse trap ready to snap shut at any moment. Making him beg like this isn’t quite as fun.

Jim snorts. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re not that special.”

“Oh really?” Mary presses one gloved finger inside of him without preamble, then watches as he grips the sheets and lets out an unsteady stream of breath. “And now?”

Jim curses. “A little warning would be nice.”

She grins. 

Who is she kidding? It’s still fun. 

She takes her finger away. She slicks it with only a few drops of lube, then slides it inside of him again. In the beginning, she used to be nicer, used to get him nice and prepped before penetrating him. But now she knows that what he gets off on isn’t the fucking itself, but the intrusion - the feeling of discomfort as his body adjusts. 

Jim’s shoulder muscles go slack and he presses back against her. He lets out a quiet moan of relief that has Mary worried. He’s never this easy. Usually she has to be three fingers deep before he finally stops talking and even then his body is still demanding. He’ll fuck himself against her, grip the sheets so hard she fears he’ll rip a hole in them. 

She cocks her head to the side and, as an experiment, presses a second finger into him. She angles down and grazes his prostate. He shudders, barely makes a sound, and buries his face into his forearm. 

“Mary,” he breathes, like close to begging already. Mary blinks. 

Death obviously isn’t treating him as well as he likes to pretend if he’s breaking so easily. He’s unpredictable like this and she doesn’t like that she has to deal with him when he’s more volatile than usual.

For the first time since she’s met him, she feels afraid. 

But then, she’s always worked best while riding high on fear. It makes her creative. 

She slaps his arse, hard enough to leave a red imprint of her hand, and he twitches. It’s not the reaction she wants, but at least it’s something. 

“Up,” she barks, squeezing the inside of his thigh and digging her nails into his skin. “Turn over.”

There’s a pause, but then he turns his head and looks at her, wary. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she says and twists her fingers inside of him. She spreads them, working on relaxing the muscles around them. It’s a little too quick, but she can see him start to wake up at the thought of something new. “I worked the late shift tonight, and I don’t feel like being sore for the early one tomorrow.”

“So what are you proposing?” He twists to the side and  that  must feel interesting because he closes his eyes and works his jaw for a minute before speaking again. “I came here to get fucked. I don’t want anything else.”

“I know,” Mary says. She takes her fingers away, maybe a little too fast, and reaches for the lube before laying down next to him. She pours some in her hand, and wraps her fingers around the dildo. She makes sure it’s sufficiently slick then pulls the glove off with her teeth. “That’s why you’re going to ride me.”

Jim blinks. Up close, Mary can see the dark circles under his eyes, dull brown where before there had only been alertness. 

“Why?” he asks finally.

“Because I said so,” she says. She’s hoping he doesn’t catch on to the real reason: that she knows it’ll help him and because - though her past would suggest otherwise - she knows how to take care of people. She looks pointedly at the the dildo. “And because you want to do what I say.”

He lets out a short laugh of disbelief. “Is that so?”

“I’ll leave you here,” she says. She waits for him to finish rolling his eyes before speaking again. “And this time, I’ll leave you conscious. I’ll make sure you watch me get dressed, gather my things, and walk out the door. You’ll stay here alone because you don’t have any other safe spaces lined up for tonight. You’ll be alone and when you finally try to fall asleep, you’ll smell me on the sheets. You’ll wish that you’d just stopped talking and did as you’re told. So,” she says, letting the kindness seep out of her eyes. “What’s it going to be, Jim?”

He looks at her and slowly, the smirk spreads on his face. “Remind me why I never hired you again?”   
“I came to you to erase who I was, not add onto it,” she says. “And your sniper wasn’t very fond of me.”

Something dark flickers over Jim’s face. “No,” he says, “he wasn’t.”

Mary opens her mouth to question him, but he sits up. He rolls over her and straddles her hips, effectively ending the conversation. 

“But he’s not here right now,” he says. He rolls his hips back, grinds against the dildo. Mary presses up and the pressure of the harness against her clit reminds her how much she likes doing this. He smirks. He looks more in control than before and though it’s what she wants, she’s not keen on the arrogance behind it. 

“No, he’s not,” she says. She sits up and reaches behind Jim to position the dildo against him. He exhales steadily but keeps his eyes on her as he raises up to his knees. As he moves, she thrusts up and brings her hands to his hips, then pulls him down hard onto the dildo. The reaction is immediate. He groans, loud and relieved. Out of instinct or habit - she’s not sure which - his hands go to her shoulders, nails dig into her skin, but she keeps pressing up until the toy is completely buried inside of him. 

“But you wish he was, don’t you?” she says. She slides her hand over his spine and into his hair. He closes his eyes, thighs shaking with the effort it takes not to move, not to fuck himself against her. 

If her smile is a bit smug, she can’t help it. One quick glance down is enough to see that he’s still interested in this, if not more so now that she’s pressed snug inside of him. 

She looks up at his face again. “Is that why you called me again?” She slowly circles her hips, revels in the way he bites his lip in an effort to not react. “Because you need someone to fuck you, to hurt you?” 

“I’m…” he trails off, swallowing thickly, and she wastes no time in digging her nails into his scalp. 

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” he says through a clenched jaw. 

Mary grins. “Yes, what?”

His hips twitch. She’d punish him for it, except she’s almost certain it’s completely involuntary. “Yes, I want you to fuck me.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And the hurting?”

He glances down, then to the door, then to her again; considering. Finally, “Not as necessary as it usually is.”

She looks at him, at the careful way he’s holding himself, the way he looks feral when he’s not paying attention and she can see what he means. “Fine.” She slides her other hand onto his hip and thrusts up. “Then I suggest you move.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. Anyone else would be flushing but he looks completely unashamed, maybe even a little amused. “You’re really going to lay back while I fuck myself?”

“I wasn’t kidding about being tired.” Mary shrugs, slides her hand out of Jim’s hair to rest at his hip. “I’m not a service domme.”

“Then what are you getting out of this?” he asks. His eyes search her face. 

“Trust me,” she drawls, drawing her hips back against the bed. She enjoys the feeling of strain in her abdominal muscles for a moment, then snaps them back. Jim jolts lets out a choked out sound. Mary’s grin turns lecherous. “I’m not being generous.”

“Fair enough,” he breathes. He leans up a bit, then finally rocks back against her. He grinds his hips slowly as he gets used to the feeling of being so full. 

The leather of the harness catches against Mary’s clit and she presses against him to meet the movement of his hips. It takes a few minutes before he finds a rhythm he’s comfortable with and it’s clear that he hasn’t done this in a while. But his cock is heavy and leaking against his stomach as he moves  and the sight alone is enough to keep her wet as she watches him. 

His eyes are closed, obviously trying to concentrate on his own pleasure than on making sure this is good for her too and the thought of it makes her face flush. 

“God,” she breathes and plants one foot on the bed to push up hard against him, already tired of being passive. “Look at you. I bet you’ve been gagging for this.”

He jerks forward at the sudden thrust and leans against her. His hands frame her face, his forehead touches her shoulder. He opens his mouth to reply, but from this angle Mary has the perfect opportunity to take control. She takes his hips in her hands, stills him when he tries to move back, and pushes her hips up. His groan is the loudest one she’s been able to wring out of him yet, so she keeps it up, ignoring the burn in her muscles in favor of pulling all of the noises she can out of him. 

“That’s why you’re here,” she continues, breathing heavily. “Isn’t it? You like it when someone takes you out of your head for a while, don’t you? Say it.”

“Yes,” Jim gasps, and Mary can’t help but be pleased by how quickly the answer comes. “Yes. Now just...fuck, I need-”

Mary remembers this from the last few times, how desperate and incoherent he gets when he’s close. She reaches up to grip his shoulders and rolls them over. She pins his wrists above his head with one hand then guides herself back into him with the other. 

This time, she can watch as the head of the dildo spreads him open before disappearing inside of him and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to hold back a groan. He takes it so easily, eagerly, spreads his thighs to compensate as she gets closer to him then starts to move.

She keeps her thrusts short and hard. From past experience, she knows exactly what he wants and, judging by the noises he’s making, that he’s not going to last much longer. 

His hands squirm in her grip, but Mary only squeezes harder. He lets out a groan of frustration, the heat of his glare dampened by how heavy lidded his eyes are, how his breath hitches every time the dildo brushes against his prostate. 

“Let me-”

“No,” Mary says, speeding up just a little. He’s close, close enough that she’s sure she could get him to beg to come if she really wanted. “Not yet.”

He huffs in frustration and Mary remembers why it’s so much fun refusing him what he wants. “Why?” he snaps.

“Because,” she says, tracing one finger along the underside of his cock. He presses into the touch, almost causing her to slip out of him. She moves her hand away and places it firmly on his hip, pinning him to the mattress. “I can. You can’t move unless I let you, and I’m certainly not going to let you.”

“Then-”

“You’re going to come untouched,” she says, speaking through his interruption. 

“You seriously think you can make me do that?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. And there it is, the old swagger and arrogance. The ‘I know better’ that he didn’t have when she’d first walked in. 

She changes the angle slightly and presses hard against him. He bites his lip, the muscles in his thighs tense. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she says and snaps her hips against him. She keeps her movements at the same pace, not breaking rhythm even though the muscles in her thighs and abdomen are burning.

She can see him bordering just on the edge, jaw clenched as he tries to contain himself, but it doesn’t last long. She digs her nails into the thin skin of his wrists, scratching hard enough to draw blood, and that’s what finally does him in. He tenses and squeezes his eyes shut, looking somehow surprised as he comes. She works him through it, watches with sadistic pleasure as he twitches, then finally relaxes; his whole body going limp against her. 

“Told you so,” she says, grinning as she pulls out of him. 

The look on his face is the most tired sort of murderous she’s ever seen and she can’t help but laugh a little at it. 

“Shut up,” he says, wiggling out of her grasp. He sits up, runs a hand over his face, looking more awake than before, more alert, then looks at her. “Do you want anything?”

Mary thinks it over, cocking her head to the side as she considers it. He looks completely wrecked even though his eyes are brighter now and she  wants so much she can feel her pulse beating between her legs. 

She looks around for a clock. She probably has to be home soon if she wants to avoid having to give John the details, which normally she wouldn’t mind lying about, but it feels too dangerous. And inadvertently talking about Jim to get off with John doesn’t seem right, especially when Jim’s the reason John was in such a state when she met him. 

“What time is it?” she asks. 

“We’ve been here less than an hour,” Jim says, somehow managing to look put together even with come drying on his chest. “You have time. I certainly have time. What do you want?”

He’s right and she knows it. She’s just overthinking. 

“Lay back,” she says and moves off of the bed to take off the harness. He does as she asks and looking at her with a knowing smirk. 

“Someone’s feeling extra dominant tonight,” he says, watching her carefully as she walks over to him. She shrugs and kneels on the bed, shuffling over him until she’s straddling his chest. 

“I’m always like this.” She grips his hair as he starts to shift his body down. She lets him move until he’s comfortable, then raises up higher on her knees. Like this, he has to crane his neck to be able to get his mouth on her. He glares up at her with dark eyes. She shrugs. “It’s just been a while.”

“Mm, maybe,” he hums, then turns his head to kiss the inside of her thigh. He moves his mouth at his own pace and she lets him, content to give in to the teasing for once. Suddenly he moves his tongue to her, flicking hard over her clit, and she gasps, twists his hair in her hand. “I’m not so sure though.”

“I don’t care if you’re sure,” she says, biting her lip to hold back a gasp when he does it again. “Now stop talking.”

He smiles against her and she almost expects him to say something else, but he doesn’t. He presses his mouth over her. He spreads her lips with his tongue and sucks her clit with enough pressure to push her onto the edge and keep her there. She was already close before he came and now that the attention is on her, she knows that she won’t last much longer. Jim’s mouth is sinful and even though she knows that the strain in his neck is probably uncomfortable by now, he doesn’t stop. Probably likes it, the little freak. He brushes his lips over her, alternating between lightly sucking and rubbing against her clit with the flat of his tongue. 

“Like that,” she breathes as she feels her orgasm start to build. She pulls his face closer, ignoring his grunt of protest and the way his hands come up to grip her thighs. He doesn’t stop though, which is all she cares about. “Oh  god , just like that.”

She rocks her hips against him in small movements and the extra friction is all she needs. She comes silently, shaking and feeling her grip tighten in Jim’s hair, before she finally relaxes, breathing hard. 

She lets go of him slowly and sits back. His eyes are open and the look on his face is smug, even though he looks completely wrecked. 

He licks his lips and she rolls her eyes as she gets off the bed to get dressed again. 

“Have fun?” she asks. She slides on her underwear, looks around for her bra and reaches for it under the bed. 

“Loads,” Jim says, stretching out on the bed. From the way he’s not moving, she’s guessing that he’s probably staying at the hotel tonight. It feels weird knowing where he is, even if it’s just for a little while. He’ll be gone without a trace tomorrow, sucked back into whatever hiding place he finds next. It doesn’t seem like him. Though he looks content now, spread out on the blankets, gazing lazily out the window, she wonders if he’ll hide for much longer. She doubts it. People like Jim Moriarty don’t stay dead. They can’t. They’re too big for death. 

She watches him for a moment as she finishes getting dressed, then takes the strap-on from the floor and stuffs it into her bag. Getting it past John wasn’t going to be easy, but she’s always liked a challenge. 

“Do you really not miss it?” Jim asks, his voice cutting through the contented silence. Mary zips her bag calmly. She slings it over her shoulder and stands. 

“No,” she says, closing her eyes in a slow blink as she remembers everything she’s done, all the horrible things she had to do to get by. “No, I really don’t.”

“How?” Jim asks. He turns away from the window to look at her. His eyes are sharp now. They pin her where she stands. “You were--”

“I know what I was.” She pulls at a wrinkle in her shirt. “But things change. People change.”

“Do they?”

“Yes,” she says, with conviction. He raises an eyebrow, opens his mouth to say something, but his phone vibrates loudly on the nightstand before starting to play some hideous pop song. He doesn’t reach for it immediately like he normally would. 

“Not gonna get that?” she asks. 

He shakes his head and her eyebrows raises in surprise. The last time they’d done this, she’d had to practically throw the phone across the room before he’d put it down. 

“It’s Sebastian,” he says, his tone more subdued than before. Mary doesn’t recognize the name, but she has a feeling she knows who he’s talking about.  Second Most Dangerous  floats through her head and she feels goosebumps rise on her arms. “He calls sometimes. He likes listening to the voicemail greeting.”

“Christ,” Mary breathes before she can stop herself. For some reason she thinks of John, wonders if all right hands suffer from the same brand of grief when they’re left alone. 

“Quite,” Jim says. He watches the phone for a few moments, waiting for it to stop. Seconds tick by before it starts again and he sighs. He reaches over and switches the volume off. He looks at her again and a slow smile slides onto his face. It looks plastic and Mary can’t help but think that all she’s done is put a bandaid on the real issue. 

“I should get going then,” she says, patting her pockets to make sure she has everything. 

“You should,” Jim says. He reaches down to pull the blankets over himself, looking small and tired suddenly. “I’ll be seeing you, Mary Morstan.”

The words leave a sick feeling in her stomach as she waves and turns to go. She closes the door on the sound of Jim’s phone buzzing. 


End file.
